


Who’s that boy?

by dutchbuffy



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-12 19:21:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11168439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dutchbuffy/pseuds/dutchbuffy
Summary: A potential with a difference appears on the doorstep of Casa Summers mid season seven.Timeline: S7, somewhere around Potential.





	Who’s that boy?

Giles opened the door after the bell had rung for the third time. He couldn’t see why one of the girls didn’t do it, but they insisted on not being dressed and ready. That he was still half covered in shaving cream did not seem to matter to them one whit. He looked at the tanned, clean-cut young man with the big duffel slung over his shoulder with polite inquiry.  
   
“Hi! “ The boy said in a friendly voice and stuck out his hand. “Are you Mr. Giles? I’m Tyler, a potential slayer. I was told to report here.”  
   
Giles felt his jaw sag. This must be some colossal cock-up. A boy who thought he was a slayer?  
   
“What?” he said. “You can’t be! You’re a boy! I mean, you are, aren’t you?”  
   
The boy grinned and nodded. “My watcher told me there might be some confusion about this. She gave me a letter to hand over to you.” His voice sounded distinctly Australian.  
   
Giles took the letter gingerly, his razor still in his hand. He spotted the name on the back of the envelope and his eyebrows rose in pleased surprise. “Mrs. Hickson! How surprising! I thought she’d retired a long while ago!”  
   
Tyler nodded and said,” Well, she’s pretty old. She didn’t feel up to coming here all the way from Down Under, so she sent me with a letter and a greeting to you.”  
   
Giles wished he’d had a cup or two of strong morning tea before having to deal with complex stuff like this. “Oh, well, better come in then. I’ll tell Buffy.”  
   
Tyler’s face lit up. “She’s the real Slayer, isn’t she? Amazing! She must be a real corker!”  
   
“Yes, yes, quite. Buffy! Buffy, come down please!”  
   
“Giles, I’m not even made up yet!” Buffy said, clearly annoyed. She came down the stairs, and looked at Giles standing there in his old pajama bottoms and sloppy t-shirt, white goop on his face, huge bags under his eyes, and then at the fresh-faced young man standing next to him. He was medium height, with curly honey-brown hair and little glasses perched on his slightly aquiline nose. He smiled up at her broadly, flung down his duffel, and came at her with outstretched hand.  
   
“You must be Buffy!” He said, and shook her hand vigorously.  
   
With dismay, Giles saw Buffy flip her hair behind her shoulders with a girlish shake of her head.  
   
“Hi! And you are?” A smile so broad as hadn’t been seen since the Buffybot lit her face.  
   
Tyler started to stammer under the onslaught of such radiance. “T-Tyler. I’m from Australia. My watcher sent me here, to, um, help you. You.”  
   
Buffy gave off a sweet little tinkle of laughter. Giles was revolted. He hadn’t seen her behave like this since high school. What was worse, sleeping with vampires or overt flirting with teenagers in his presence? It was a toss-up, really. He went upstairs to finish his toilette. He refused to face the baffling world any longer without a smooth face and a decent breakfast.  
   
When he came down again, feeling reasonably refreshed, even that was denied him. The only thing left was strawberry yogurt and chocolate covered cornflakes. No bread, no eggs, no bacon. Young people were much like locusts, he mused. Descending on a place and devouring everything in sight. Who’d been the great man again who said that? He made do with a strong cup of tea, without milk.  
   
In the living room chaos reigned. The whole gaggle of girls, including Dawn and Buffy, was surrounding Tyler, chattering like crazy. The poor boy looked rather hounded. A little group of people, who surely had never before thought of themselves as having anything in common, looked on from the side. Xander, Willow and Spike.  
   
Giles joined them. Willow rolled her eyes at him expressively, and he raised his mug in acknowledgement.  
   
“Giles, there must be a mistake! Boys can’t be Slayers, right? Right?” Xander said, looking more put out than Giles thought was warranted. He wasn’t the one having to look after the whole giggling lipgloss-twirling lot!  
   
“I certainly always thought so…” Giles answered. “There was a letter. I’m sure Mrs. Hickson explains it all.” He spotted the letter, lying abandoned on the coffee table. He lifted the flap quite easily and started to read.  
   
“Well?” Willow prodded, impatient.  
   
“She simply commends young Tyler in my care…Very talented young person…Difficult times, too old to finish proper training, directive from the CoW…” He looked up at Willow and Xander, perplexed. “Not a word about Tyler being unique or different.”  
   
“Maybe in Australia male slayers are normal?” Xander suggested.  
   
“You make it sound like Mars, Xander. It’s on the same planet as America and England, same rules apply.”  
   
Buffy emerged from the cocoon of girls and advanced on them smilingly. “Isn’t this great, guys? A male Slayer? He’ll be such an asset to our group! I can’t wait to start training him!”  
   
Giles felt rather than saw the other males echo his own wince.  
   
“Buffy,“ Spike started in a very calm voice. “Since we’ve never heard of male slayers before, how can we be sure he is who he says he is? He could be the First, impersonating a Slayer again.”  
   
“Yeah, right,” Xander said. “My point exactly, Spike!”  
   
Spike rolled his eyes at that, which looked weird because his left eye was still slightly swollen and blackened, but ploughed on. “Is there a test we can do, Giles? To see if he’s really a Slayer?”  
   
Gils ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “I’m right there with you Spike, but really, he has a letter from Mrs. Hickson. I know her; she was on of my teachers. It’s her handwriting, her style. I’m absolutely inclined to trust her.”  
   
“Really, guys, the envy is just dripping off your faces!” Buffy said in derision. “You’re just saying this because all of us girls are thrilled to finally have a cute young guy to train with!”  
   
The guys shared a look. Aren’t we cute?  
   
“I’m young! Xander protested. “I’m handsome! What’s he got that I haven’t?”  
   
“It’s more what have you got that he hasn’t?“ Buffy said pointedly and merged with the throng again. Spike and Giles kept their faces straight at Xander’s discomfort.  
   
“I’m ruggedly handsome!” Giles muttered.  
   
They turned to Spike.  
   
“I’m good-looking!“ Spike put in defensively. “And I have killer abs!”  
   
“Seen yourself in a mirror lately? You look worse than when Glory did you. And you are not in the competition, ‘cause you’re a) ancient b) a vampire and c) you bleach your hair. I rest my case. And anyway, I bet they didn’t even have mirrors where you come from!” Xander seemed back to his usual mode of communication with Spike.  
   
“They had looking-glasses, and one was not supposed to look in them the whole time,“ Spike mumbled, and tried to find Buffy in the crowd of girls.  
   
“I think cute here equals youth and innocence. I’m quite sure none of us have those qualities anymore.” Giles said pensively.  
   
Buffy emerged again, the same relentlessly perky smile plastered to her face. “He can bunk with you, Spike, we can’t put him in with the girls!”  
   
“No, absolutely not, that might lead to, gasp, fraternization amongst the troops!” Spike spat out.  
   
She was already off again. Giles threw a thoughtful look at Spike’s face. Well, apparently Buffy trusted him enough to put a young defenseless human in the same room with him, definitely a major change. Still, he felt the tiniest pang of sympathy for the vampire. It probably wasn’t much fun to see Buffy moon over another person. He thought it was a safe bet Spike wasn’t over his feelings for Buffy, not with having gotten a soul. He vowed to have a talk with Spike as soon as things quieted down a bit.  
   
“Again, Spike man, I'm so with you!”  
   
“Spike is quite right,” Giles agreed. “We must keep our distance from those impressionable young girls.”  
   
Willow jumped a little and went off to the kitchen like a shot, mumbling something about more coffee.  
   
“Must’ve hurt her feelings, Giles,” Spike remarked. “What’d you do that for?”  
   
“What?” Giles’ head turned in confusion to the direction if the kitchen. “Surely you can’t mean? Oh. Dear me, how tactless. Still, it’s not good form.”  
   
*******  
   
The smell of female sweat was overwhelming. Spike inhaled it with relish as he reentered the training space with a cup of coffee in his hand. He walked up to Buffy and they stood silently observing the heaving and grunting couples for a moment.  
   
“Why did you put Tyler and Vi together?" he asked her.  
   
“No special reason,“ Buffy said. “Why?”  
   
“Think you should separate them. They’re by far the clumsiest of the lot, if you keep them together they’re gonna learn nothing.”  
   
Buffy thought on this a moment and nodded. “I think you’re right. Good point. I’ll redivide the groups.”  
   
She clapped her hand on his shoulder briefly, and moved in purposefully, stopping everybody with a word and a gesture, allotting them new partners and a new task. Spike looked on, basking in the glow of the small compliment she’d paid him. He thought she was really doing well on the leadership thing. She was made to be a general, moving among the troops, a word here, a gesture there, putting heart in all of them. He was very proud to be there at her side, being able to help his slayer. Well, not his of course. Ever.  
   
He took a deep breath and finished his coffee. He always felt it gave him some extra edge to have something warm in his body while fighting or training. Nothing could beat human blood of course, but it added a little fluidity to his movements. He took off his shirt and started warming-up moves, uneasily aware of many eyes resting upon him.  
   
Some time later, when everyone was getting noticeably slower, the accident occurred. Tyler slipped on a patch of sweat and seriously twisted his ankle. Buffy was with him in a second, and kneeled beside the groaning boy. Gently she prodded the ankle, eliciting more moans and a girly squeak from Tyler. A big bump was growing below the anklebone.  
   
“Well, Tyler, we’ll have to get you to hospital to see how serious this is. Giles, would you call Xander?”  
   
Tenderly Buffy pushed a light brown curl off his face. Spike turned his head away sharply. He hadn’t expected it to hurt this much. He’d accepted that Buffy could never love him, hadn’t he? It was inevitable that there would be someone else sooner or later. Better take up her slack instead of thinking gloomy thoughts. No brooding.  
   
He herded the girls together and instructed then to do their cooling down exercise and get showered. He could hear Giles and Buffy softly arguing. Buffy wanted to ride with Tyler to the hospital; Giles was of the opinion that she should leave that to Xander.  
   
“You can’t be everywhere, Buffy. It’s more important that you remain here. You can’t show favoritism, they all need you!”  
   
Grudgingly, Buffy gave in. Xander came in and carted Tyler off to First Aid, and Giles took the girls to a lecture on demonic defenses. Buffy and Spike remained. He thought Buffy looked tense and antsy.  
   
“You up for a spot of violence, Slayer?”  
   
“Sure. And since when are you calling me Slayer again?”  
   
“Must have slipped out. Buffy.”  
   
“Huh.”  
   
They started sparring silently; the only sounds the slapping of bare feet on the floor, Buffy’s panting and the dull thudding of blow after blow. Spike realized they hadn’t fought like this in a long time. Since the potentials had gotten in, there had been short demonstrations punctuated by explanations, but no long bouts. They were really working up a wonderful rhythm, this was their dance, and there was almost nothing like it.  
   
Buffy crushed Spike to a wall in a forceful body check, when, without transition, the air between them suddenly became charged. Their eyes met and Spike saw something dawn in Buffy’s eyes. He noticed he was breathing in time with her panting, and the rise and fall of her breasts was distracting him. He pushed her away from his body violently, making her stumble and mill her arms around.  
   
“Better stop now!” Spike gasped.  
   
“No way,“ Buffy said, a fierce grin starting to from on her face. “This is the best fight I’ve had in ages, I’m not gonna quit!”  
   
She closed in on him, raining blows on his torso. Spike started to retreat, changing to a defensive style. Buffy gave no quarter, and with a brilliant scissor movement floored him. She was on him in a flash, and straddled him, panting hard. Spike lay still, staring up at her.  
   
“Get off me, Buffy. The fight is over,” he said, striving for calm.  
   
“Is it? Not if I don’t want it to be,” Buffy said, and leaned forward on his up-turned arms. A few stray hairs tickled his face, and he had to close his eyes against the feelings that rose unbidden.  
   
“What is it with you and guys who are down? Half an hour ago you were all over Tyler, and now me?” He bucked and twisted, trying to get way from her, but it only made everything worse.  
   
Buffy smiled down at him. ”Kinda starting to enjoy it, huh?”  
   
“Buffy, please. This isn’t funny. Don’t bloody play with me!”  
   
She pouted, then released him abruptly. Spike rose slowly, feeling bruised in more ways than one.  
   
“I thought we put this behind us, Buffy. Don't start something you know you’re not going to bloody finish!” The bitterness and the anger nearly choked him.  
   
She turned a confused face towards him. “Start? Finish? I don’t know anything anymore, Spike. Why don’t you explain it to me?”  
   
He released a shaky breath. “You know I will always love you. I know and accept you can never love me. Explanation over. That leaves no room for sodding games.”  
   
Buffy stood looking back at him with an unreadable expression. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but changed her mind and stalked off, lifting her hands in an expression of frustration.  
   
Spike stared at her retreating back, her hair dark with sweat, her old and much-washed sweats, and he thought he’d never seen anything more beautiful.  
   
*****  
“Spike? Would you help me get up to the bathroom and shave? I can’t do it on my own!” Tyler called out.  
   
They struggled to the bathroom. It would have been much easier for Spike to carry Tyler, but he knew better than to offer. Spike propped the boy up before the bathroom mirror, and got the shock of his life when he saw his own face staring back at him. The eyes moved away and he realized it wasn’t. Of course not, it was Tyler’s face. Now that he saw it in reverse, he could see the incredible resemblance. Looked just like he had at that age, curls, glasses and all, hunching over a small shaving mirror and a bowl of warm water, shaving. How strange that nobody else had noticed the likeness. He didn’t look seventeen anymore, of course, and his hair was bleached, but still!  
   
Spike stared, entranced, at the memory of his face. Tyler was intent upon his shaving and didn’t notice Spike’s scrutiny. A thought occurred to Spike. Was this the reason Buffy was so enamored of the boy? Was she seeing a less tarnished version of the man she was afraid to love? He felt a sudden flood of pity for Buffy, doomed to love creatures everybody feared and despised, condemned by her own Slayer nature.  
   
“Spike? Do vampires shave?” Tyler asked while soaping up yet again.  
   
“I don’t. Never took out a questionnaire,” Spike answered curtly.  
   
He changed hands in holding Tyler up. God, was that boy a slow shaver! And a slow healer, too. That ankle was still bad after, what, three days? His suspicions returned in full force. Giles never had gotten that call to Australia through, had he?  
   
He escorted Tyler back to his chair and went to find Giles.  
   
“Giles? You ever reach the lady watcher Down Under?”  
   
Giles looked vaguely guilty. “Um, no, I’ve tried once or twice, but there never was any answer.”  
   
Spike told him his suspicions. Giles whipped off his glasses decisively and started to clean them. “I’m afraid you may be right. In all probability, Mrs. Hickson is just as dead as the rest of the council. You go and get Buffy and help her restrain that young man, or whatever he is. Willow and I will think on a spell to find out what or who he is and what he’s doing here!”  
   
Within minutes of Spike leaving the room a furious Buffy stormed in. “Giles! Spike says we have to tie Tyler up? Tell me it isn’t true!”  
   
“Buffy, I really think we must take this seriously. We’ve been far too lenient in letting a male so-called Slayer in. He must be investigated thoroughly.”  
   
“But Giles, look at him! He’s just a boy, a sweet, innocent young boy! How could he be evil! He wears glasses, for God’s sake!”  
   
Giles held his glasses up. “These mean I’m not evil? Really, Buffy, I’m far from impressed by your reasoning. We will investigate young Tyler. Go help Spike tie him up.”  
   
Buffy stomped off. When Willow and he descended to the basement with their arms full of magic paraphernalia, they eye were met by an angrily pacing Buffy, and Spike leaning against the wall.  
   
“Tying up again, eh? Remind you of me and of whatsisname?” Spike said with a smirk.  
   
“Tucker’s brother!” Willow and Buffy chorused.  
   
“Well, very handy to still have the tying-up-chair and the rope at the ready.”  
   
“Tyler?‘ Giles said. “Care to tell us who you really are and what you want?”  
   
Tyler looked frightened, rims of white visible around the blue in his eyes. “I told you, I’m just Tyler. I’m just a boy, a slayer in training! What kind of spell are you going to do on me? Are you going to turn me into something weird?”  
   
“How about a frog?” Willow said, advancing threateningly with a vial of red stuff held up.  
   
“Cool!” Buffy said. “We can have a kissing contest to see if he turns into a prince!”  
   
Tyler squeaked at this, or at the dark look he got from Spike.  
   
“Buffy!” Giles said in admonishment. “Please, you need to take this seriously! Our lives could be in danger from this so-called boy!”  
   
“Exactly! Good thinking, Giles!” Spike said, and Giles didn’t know for a moment or two how to respond to this. “Thanks, Spike,” he said stiffly and watched Willow make a circle with the magic sand.  
   
Buffy came to stand next to Spike and together they watched the incantation be performed by Willow and Giles, which included waving gourds, saying words in ancient languages and smoking purple incense, and lastly the throwing of seaweed.  
   
“Magic always makes me uneasy, you?” Buffy whispered to Spike.  
   
“Never trusted it,” Spike agreed. “Used it once or twice in a pinch, though.”  
   
“Really? Who taught you?” Buffy asked.  
   
Nothing spectacular seemed to happen. Tyler sat there, still looking wigged and ordinary, although wreathed in purple smoke and tendrils of brownish black weed hanging from his ears.  
   
“Well?“ Buffy demanded impatiently. “Tell me what’s going on!”  
   
Giles scratched his neck. “Um, nothing, actually. This spell should tell us whether he is of demonic origin, or has glamours and so on cast over him- but there seems to be nothing like that. Willow?”  
   
“Giles is right, Buffy. There are no indications of witchery or warlocky or demony goings-on. We are so baffled and stumped!”  
   
“Okay, what’s next? What’s the next step in finding out more about him?”  
   
“Um, torture?” Willow suggested diffidently. “We could get Anya to torture him, like Andrew?”  
   
“Nah!“ Buffy said. “We knew Andrew was evil, we know no such thing about Tyler. Let’s just keep him tied up, so we can keep a better eye on him, and try calling Australia again first.”  
   
Short of torture there seemed indeed no other options, so Giles and Willow complied. Buffy insisted on carrying Tyler and his chair to a good position in front of the TV, fiddled with his ropes to make them more comfortable and brought him a soft drink. She held can and straw herself while he drank. Giles and Spike watched this with somber looks in their eyes and identical crossed arms.  
   
******  
   
Spike was getting a bag of blood from the fridge, not bothering to put on the kitchen lights, when he heard voices coming from the living room, going to the dining room past the kitchen.  
   
“Don’t you still think he’s incredibly cute?” Buffy was saying. “That curly hair, I love those curls, just makes me want to run my hands through them…”  
   
“The hair’s okay,’ he heard Willow answer, in a much less enthusiastic tone.  
   
“And his blue eyes…such sweet, trusting innocent blue eyes, like a little ---what do you call them?”  
   
“Angels?”  
   
“No! Never angels – cherubs! That’s it, cherubs!”  
   
“Kinda puts to mind fat babies with wings?”  
   
“You know what I mean, Will, just 'cause you like girls better, doesn’t mean you can’t get the totally hot vibe of curly haired blue-eyed guys?”  
   
Spike imagined Willow’s eyebrows rising. Was Buffy even aware she might be describing him?  
   
“Huh-huh,” Willow said, in a skeptic tone of voice.  
   
“Him just sitting there, all tied-up and helpless…Don’t you just wanna rip his tight little T-shirt open and lick those abs?”  
   
“Buffy! How much caffeine did you have? And didn’t we go through this in the fall? Are you under a spell again?”  
   
“Nope, no spell. Can’t I just think of a cute young guy like that? What’s so wrong about that? Guys do it all the time!”  
   
“Yeah, but I meant the aggressive vibe, digging the tied-upness, the ripping off of clothing…That’s not like you. You’d never do stuff like that!”  
   
Ha. Spike could just imagine the look on Buffy’s face now. The look of absolute denial. He realized he must have sounded the “Ha” because the voices stilled and Buffy stuck her head around the kitchen door. She blushed when she saw him.  
   
“Oh. I didn’t realize you were there.”  
   
“I got that,“ Spike said evenly and made his way past her to the basement. Being a weak sod and all he couldn’t resist a last look over his shoulder before he entered, and she was still staring after him, looking guilty.  
   
 “What was that all about?” Willow asked. “Spike had an opinion on you ripping off T-shirts?”  
   
Buffy colored again. “I guess our, um, relationship, was big on the ripping off of clothes, and, um, aggression.”  
   
“Goes with the Slayer package, I suppose,“ Willow said equably.  
   
“You’re not squicked?” Buffy looked at her sideways, and her face was smooth and amused, not squicked looking at all.  
   
“Whatever rocks your boat, Buffy….” She smiled. “And, um, I guess that since Spike you have this new thing for medium sized, blue-eyed, curly haired guys?”  
   
“What?” Buffy squeaked. “What are you saying?”  
   
“Well, you gotta admit, both RJ and Tyler look a little like younger, unbleached versions of Spike. Could you say ‘sublimation’ any louder?”  
   
Buffy’s face closed up. “I hear you,” she said with dangerous calm.  
   
“Well, ask yourself, what does that mean?”  
   
Buffy left the room and Willow could hear her go up the stairs. She guessed the conversation was over.  
   
**********  
   
When Spike came down for coffee and blood that morning, the smell that hung in the kitchen hit him like a hammer in the head. My God. The whole bleeding lot of them must be on the rag. All at the same time of course, as happens to women living in the same house. The scent of blood was absolutely tantalizing, and he realized his teeth were clenched together so hard his cheeks were hurting. He spotted a newspaper on the counter and hid his face behind it. They didn’t have to see what it was doing to him. It was even hard to remain in human face, so strong was the bloodlust it woke in him.  
   
Spike sat reading the newspaper in the kitchen for a long time, getting completely absorbed in the week-old news. Without looking up he felt for his coffee cup, and never saw the hand that slid it a little closer to him. When he’d finished the last cartoon and read all the ads, he folded it up with a deep sigh. The kitchen was completely devoid of potential slayers, and the blood smell had abated. The only smell left was Buffy smell, so pervasive in this house, that he only realized after another sigh and making a face at the taste of his cold coffee, that she was still there. She had another section of the newspaper lying in front of her and was smiling at his cold coffee face.  
   
“You seemed kinda absorbed in the ads. Looking for a job?” she said in a conversational tone.  
   
“Hardly. Got one. There’s just not a lot of reading material in the house, Buffy. Don’t you Summers women like reading?” Spike said, marveling at the normality of the exchange.  
   
“I’m sure Mom and Dawn went to some kind of Book Club. I’ll ask Dawn if there’s still some books lying around.”  
   
“Thanks,” he said. They smiled at each other and he felt almost happy. She was looking cute, all neatly put together for work, he assumed.  
   
“Who’d have thought, huh, that we’d be reading the paper together in the morning?” Buffy asked.  
   
Spike couldn’t help wincing. What the hell was she on about, taunting him like that? The last weeks she was unnaturally chipper, full of bounce, perky, smiling all the time, cracking jokes. He might have know it wasn’t normal. Buffy was supposed to be intensely purposeful and cranky. All this good humor made him think of the First Evil in its sneakier incarnations. And it hurt even more than insults and blows, somehow.  
   
“Very funny,” he said.  
   
Her face fell a little. “Lighten up, Spike, one of my more harmless little jokes. Reading newspapers together is progress.”  
   
“Really?”  
   
“The only thing missing is playing…”  
   
Spike left abruptly. This was cruelty to defenseless vamps and he was not going to stay and take it.  
   
*****  
“Okay, Anya, do your thing!”  
   
Anya loosened the muscles in her neck with a grim look on her face and slowly walked closer to Tyler’s chair.  
   
“Well?” she demanded. “Who are you and what are you doing here!”  
   
Tyler’s still rounded face went tight-lipped, He gave her a stubborn look and said nothing.  
   
“You know I was a vengeance demon, don’t you? You know what vengeance demons do for a living? We wreak vengeance! Terrible vengeance! On all evildoers who treat their wives and girlfriends badly!”  
   
Tyler looked around at the others looking on. Xander had a frown on his face and nodded to him, as if saying he’d better fess up or else. Buffy looked on with an indulgent smile on her face, seeming to say he would come to no harm, she’d protect him. Giles looked stern and fatherly, and Spike just glowered.  
   
“Buffy, can’t we let Spike torture him a little? I mean, he’s really evil, he'd be more convincing!” Xander asked.  
   
Spike blanched a little but said nothing.  
   
“No!” Buffy hissed back. “No way! Spike’s seen enough torture lately, he’s not gonna do this. And he has a soul now; it would hurt him as much as it would hurt you to really torture a human being!”  
   
Spike swallowed. Acceptance was really powerful stuff. Almost as good as love.  
   
They looked on. Anya threatened, Xander cajoled, but either Tyler was wise to the good cop bad cop stuff. Or incredibly stubborn, or incredibly evil…Buffy yawned. Torture was kind of boring like this.  
   
“Come on, Spike, “she whispered. “Let’s go train. The torture watching is making me sleepy, I need to be alert.” She added loudly, “Yell if he spills the goods, okay?”  
   
****  
   
As Buffy was stuffing her load of laundry in the washer, humming in the narrow beam of sunshine that fell in the basement at this hour of day, she realized she was feeling really really good. She put the clean load in the dryer, and started to belt out the song that had been playing in her head for days and twirled a few times around the basement. Picking up the basket full of clean laundry she bounced up the stairs, still singing at the top of her voice.  
   
A grumpy face poked around the kitchen door. “Buffy? Are you all right? You sound a little weird?”  
   
Buffy raised her eyebrow, not missing a line, and sang on, while taking the stairs to the second floor two at a time. She was greeted by groans and complaints.  
   
“Really, Buffy,” Willow said, toothbrush in hand. “The hills are alive? At this hour in the morning? Are you insane? Are you even Buffy?”  
   
A brilliant notion bloomed in Buffy’s mind. She rummaged in her closet and changed her clothes. Purposefully, and not singing, she went down the stairs again, looking for her prey. He was sitting on the back porch, in the shadow, staring morosely at nothing that she could see, his left hand twitching and flexing unceasingly.  
   
“Spike!” she said in the cheeriest voice she could muster. “You need a smoke! Want me to get you your cigarettes?”  
   
When he turned around, she cracked a huge smile at him, and felt a tiny twinge of guilt when she saw his flinch and fling up his hands as if warding off something evil.  
   
“Your sexy wounds have all healed!” she said and advanced on him with swaying hips and skirts. “Would you like to ravish me now?”  
   
Spike got that round-eyed revolted look again. He made a strangled sound and dashed off. A worried crease formed between her brows. What was it with him? Nothing worked like it did before. He’d seen the bot a thousand times before, hadn’t he?  
   
*****  
They all trouped in, giddy and boisterous from success and victory.  
   
“We killed an actual vamp! We rock!” Kennedy sang and did a little dance in the hall.  
   
Buffy and Spike went in last, herding the girls into the living room.  
   
“It’s like we’re a Mom and Dad, don’t you think?” Buffy whispered to Spike. “And our kids just won a game?”  
   
“Gets you all misty-eyed, don’t it?” Spike answered with a wry smile. “All hyped up after their first win?”  
   
“I think they’re cute. Were we ever that cute?” Buffy was still whispering.  
   
“You, maybe, love. I was nowhere near cute at eighteen.” He looked at her sideways. She was still cute, in a grown-up kind of way.  
   
“What were you like?”  
   
“Shy, geeky, glasses, bad hair. Nothing debonair about me, then.” Spike said wistfully.  
   
“I don’t even know what that is!”  
   
He smiled at her. “Never mind. Seeing them like that makes you wish they could all make it, doesn’t it?”  
   
A frown marred her forehead. Spike could still see the faint memory of the big scar on her cheek. He wished he could kiss her there.  
   
“Spike, please don’t say stuff like that. I know you’re right, but I just don’t wanna hear it.”  
   
“Heard that before.” Spike clamped his lips together to keep in more bitterness. He really had to let go of that, would get him bloody nowhere.  
   
In spite of several votes for dancing, watching movies won out because of safety and tiredness. Spike sat uneasily on the couch, flanked by a young slayer wannabe on the one side and the armrest on the other. There was far too much humanity in the room for him to feel at ease, but Buffy had insisted that he be there, as part of the team. So now Giles, Xander, tied-up Tyler and him were peppering the crowd of girls; Buffy had been quite directive in her placements. What joy, getting to watch some dumb teen movie. Dawn and Anya had personally picked them out, and he dreaded what they might have thought up.  
   
He sighed. The girl next to him, he forgot her name, looked at him in reproof. “Shh!” she said. “This is such a cool movie, I’ve seen it ten times already.”  
   
“Imagine that!” Spike said between gritted teeth.  
   
He stared morosely at the screen. As if life wasn’t hard enough. His gaze narrowed. What? Was he hearing that right? He relaxed. It was actually a Shakespeare adaptation! Taming of the Shrew, one of his favorites! He looked at Dawn and gave her a thumbs-up.  
   
“I got that for you! “ she said. “I knew you’d love it!”  
   
Buffy looked at him oddly. He averted his eyes. His Slayer forever, but definitely not a girl who’d recognize a Shakespeare quote. Well, not a quality necessary for fighting. He closed his eyes for a moment. Not as if he’d miss anything if he had some shut-eye, he knew the plot. He thought how he’d really like the evening to be. It would be only Buffy and himself, nestled together on the couch, and definitely no one else in the house. He’d explain about Shakespeare and…No. He rolled the fantasy back. No explaining, that would make her fidget and feel dumb. Another movie, with Arnold Schwarzenegger or whoever did Arnie’s thing nowadays. Something simple and violent. They’d snog and cuddle, in no hurry to get on with the real sex, because they would have all the time in the world, and talk idly of slaying and special effects. He would put his hand on her tummy, and feel the silky skin…  
   
He sighed and put his head on her shoulder, smelling her fragrant hair. Buffy stroked his head with one hand, and played with his fingers with the other. He frowned. The real Buffy would never do that. He woke himself up, and felt a paralyzing lassitude and a level of comfort he hadn’t experienced in years. He breathed in the scent of the soft pillowy object he was lying on, and sleepily trailed a hand down another soft object, something slightly ridged, and then again something soft, but springier. He shot upright in a panic, realizing they were Buffy’s breast, ribs, and belly. Buffy was looking at him with amusement in her eyes.  
   
“Rona was feeling a little uncomfortable with you sleeping on her shoulder, so I took over,” she explained. She was still holding on to his hand. He wrenched it loose. He looked around the room, annoyed at being caught out napping. It was empty, not a potential Slayer in sight.  
   
“Where is everyone? Was I dreaming?” He felt an unreasonable fear that something was happening.  
   
“They all went Bronzing after all, they were all movied out after the second one.”  
   
“Two movies? I slept away two bleeding movies? On your shoulder?”  
   
“You were sleeping like a baby, I hadn’t the heart to wake you up. Sit down. No need to jump up and run off.” She patted the couch.  
   
“No thanks, feeling all woken up again. Are they safe alone at the Bronze? Shouldn’t one of us be there?” He backed off a little and looked around again. “Where’s Tyler? In the basement?”  
   
“No, they untied him and took him along. They were all going to take turns helping him, including Dawn.”  
   
“Dawn? You let Dawn go out with that boy? Remember, there was a reason he was tied up! Who knows what he is! He could be a demon! Dawn is helpless, we’ve got to get there!”  
   
He backed out of the room and Buffy heard hasty footsteps and a slamming door. She sighed. One more failed attempt.  
   
*****  
   
Willow looked up blearily from the second cup of morning coffee, as black and strong as the Summers’ Mr. Coffee could make it. Buffy herself was just entering the kitchen, totally in cheery mode again, as had become habitual these past weeks.  
   
“Hey, Willow! It’s gonna be another great day, I can feel it.”  
   
“Huh? I didn’t do a spell, Buffy, really, it wasn’t me!”  
   
Willow sounded guilty. Buffy frowned. “Why would you think I was under a spell?”  
   
“’Cause you’re unnaturally chipper, considering the circumstances, and even un-considering the circumstances. First Evil ring a bell? Still an issue!”  
   
Buffy was busy preparing a bowl of cereal. “Yeah, I know, but, still, life is good. Don’t know why, it just is.”  
   
She almost waltzed as she carried the bowl out, not spilling a drop. Slayer coordination, Willow guessed. It must be for Tyler, poor tied-up Tyler. Why did all these girls moon and gush about him so, especially Buffy? Because he was the only available real boy, or was there something special about him? She’d tuned out after his first twenty minutes on surfing on Bondi Beach, and she hadn’t yet heard him talk about anything else.  
   
Buffy returned, eyes still shining happily, looking rosy and healthy. She hummed as she moved about the kitchen, swaying a little to her internal beat. It drove Willow crazy.  
   
“Buffy,” she started. “You don’t think this whole I’m so happy thing is a little awkward? Him being a bad guy and all?” And about six years younger then you, she added mentally. And a little dim. And not interested in you?  
   
“Oh, Willow, you should really move on from that. He’s not like that anymore. He’s changed!”  
   
“Huh? We are talking about Tyler, right?”  
   
Buffy’s mouth dropped open. “Tyler? As if! Willow, he’s about Dawn’s age! What were you thinking of! Are you O.D.-ing on caffeine again?”  
   
“No, I thought you were. Who are we talking about then? Oh. I get it.” This required some mental gymnastics. Spike, then.  
   
“Okay. My worldview is once more aligned with yours,” she said. “So, how’s it going between you two?” Willow cast back her memory to Spike’s behavior the past few weeks since the rescue. He seemed to become gloomier and more silent every day.  
   
Buffy’s brow furrowed for a moment. “I don’t think he’s ready yet. I’ve been showing him I care, but he acts pretty wigged when I do that, so I’ll have to be patient a little longer. Harrowing experiences, you know. Torture.”  
   
Willow banged her head on the counter. “Buffy, you are unbelievable. By showing, I suppose you mean macking on him like you did in the training room?”  
   
“Um, yes, I guess so. Among other things. Why?” Buffy stood still and looked anxiously at Willow.  
   
“Buffy, you may be in love with the guy, but have you tried to place yourself in his position? He did something awful to you, repented, got the soul, yada yada yada. I’d say he needs a pretty explicit invitation to even dare think about you that way again.”  
   
Buffy settled herself next to Willow and leaned her head on her hand. “How do you know these things, Will? It seems pretty obvious now that you’ve said it, but…I really thought I was gently showing him my feelings, pushing him a little to, well, to get him to act!”  
   
“Buffy, you will always be my best friend, but you’re just not really sensitive, I guess…”  
   
“Hey!”  
   
There was a silence. Willow closed her eyes and took a sip of coffee. Hm, silence. One good deed during breakfast, check. She opened one eye to see Buffy slide of the stool and leave the kitchen.  
   
“Where are you going?” she mumbled.  
   
“What do you think? Got something to tell to someone!”  
   
“Geez!” Willow mumbled. Cheery again. She hoped they would be happy, and that they would be a little discreet about it. So not, she just knew it. She drew a mental picture of a dozen potential slayers and other houseguests standing about on the lawn, shivering, pacing, and checking their watches, looking up at Buffy’s bedroom, from which the most horrific sounds were emerging. She giggled a little. O yeah, and guess who was going to be the one talking to Xander? No rest for the wicked.  
   
*****  
   
Spike was halted by Buffy’s voice, coming from the living room when he was on his way to the basement.  
   
“Spike…,” Buffy said softly, in a tone of voice that gave him a cold shiver of premonition. “Come here. I think we should talk.”  
   
He sat down on a corner of the couch, as far away from her as he could. “So talk,” he said curtly. “When you’re done I’d like to say something, too.”  
   
“You go first,” she said, a little relieved at the small respite.  
   
“Buffy,” Spike said, not looking at her, “I can’t do this anymore. It’s too hard. Please release me from my promise, let me leave.”  
   
She looked at him stupidly. “What? Let you go? No way. Why would you want to go again and where? I told you I wanted you to stay.”  
   
“But it’s so bloody difficult, it’s killing me, Buffy. Seeing you day in day out, all these people around me, I can’t stand it anymore, I need space, and I need time to forget all this and…”  
   
“Spike, wait” she interrupted him, ”I’ve got to tell you something first.. Maybe you’ve noticed I’ve been acting different lately, and I thought maybe you’d guessed the reason?”  
   
He couldn’t speak and shook his head.  
   
She took a deep breath and looked at him with shining eyes. “I’m in love! I know it’s taken me a long time to admit to it, and it’s, well, not as hard as I thought it would be to say it, so…Time for things around here to change, huh?”  
   
He shook his head and took a deep breath, too. “Buffy, you know I'm yours. Tell me what you want. Should I leave? I will. Want me to stay, be your muscle man or train your potentials? Will do. Yours to decide. But why tell me this? Why be deliberately cruel? I knew this was going to come someday, I knew you’d never want me, but…” He couldn’t go on. Any moment now, he’d bloody cry.  
   
“But I just told you I did!” But she was speaking to the door swinging in Spike’s wake.  
   
******  
   
The telephone rang. Xander answered it sleepily.  
   
“What? Who? Okay, I’ll get him. Giles!”  
   
“Hello? Yes, speaking. Who? Billy O’Donnell? No, he’s called Tyler. What? His sister? I see. She was your mother? My condolences. Yes, thank you, we’ll put him on the first plane out. Goodbye.”  
   
Giles put down the phone and tiredly rubbed his face. “Well. Not what we thought, then.”  
   
“What did she say? Come on, Giles, spill already!” Xander nearly danced with impatience.  
   
“Let’s get Buffy and Willow here first, Xander, I don’t feel like telling this more than once.”  
   
“Well,” Giles started, when all were gathered around him,” I just spoke to Mrs. Hickson’s daughter. She and her Slayer were killed a few weeks ago, presumably by Harbingers. Tyler is the name of the Slayer that was killed, and the boy we know as Tyler is really Billy, the potential slayer’s older brother. So, he’s not who he said he was, but no demon or servant of the First either. I promised Miss Hickson I’d put him on the plane back, and that‘s it, basically.”  
   
“He’s an ordinary boy?” Buffy asked, sounding disappointed. Spike glanced at her face. Didn't like that, did she? Didn’t want lover boy to leave, of course. Bugger. He’d be out of the picture, but it pained him she was till hankering after normality and normal guys. Not that he still expected she’d ever…it just hurt.  
   
Buffy herself untied Tyler, now Billy, and everyone trooped around him once more to say goodbye. He was looking very downcast, with his big bag at his feet, in his stripy football shirt.  
   
“Why did you do it, Billy?” Giles asked. “You must have know you were doing something wrong, and dangerous!”  
   
“I wanted a chance to kill whatever killed Tyler,” Billy mumbled.  
   
Most people in the room could relate to that in one way or another.  
   
***********  
   
Spike shot upright. He was woken by a feeling of cold dread. Something was wrong. He scanned his surroundings, but apart from faint sleeping and snoring sounds from his co-basement inhabitants, nothing could be heard. Then he realized that the feeling of having done something wrong was internal. He was a fool, an utter idiot and a pathetic wanker besides!  
   
It was suddenly completely clear what had been going on with Buffy the past few weeks, what she'd been trying to tell him this afternoon. God. How self-involved and self-pitying could one bloke be? He, who had prided himself on his great intuition and insight in people, had totally missed what was going on in front of his own nose.  
   
He lay back on his cot, stunned by his own obtuseness. So many signs, so many attempts by Buffy to let him know she cared, all rebuffed or ignored or misunderstood. A broad smile spread on his face as he remembered Buffy singing ‘Do, a deer’, while washing up. It must be love to make his tough Slayer sing from that movie. He’d once heard her deny ever seeing it! She should have sung ‘Wind beneath my wings’, that would have penetrated his fog.  
   
The only thing to do was to remedy it immediately. He quickly put on his jeans and padded upstairs, barefoot, and as silent as only a vampire could. He didn’t hesitate in front of Buffy’s door, there was only certainty in him. He knelt down by her bedside. The other occupant of the room was sleeping on the floor, on the far side of the big bed, invisible from his point of view. Buffy was lying with her back to the girl, her face looking very soft and relaxed in sleep.  
   
"Buffy…" he whispered, touching the one small hand lying beside her cheek on the pillow, still plump with youth.  
   
Her eyes opened slowly; she didn’t seem surprised or shocked to be awakened like that. Moonlight illuminated his forehead, nose and chin, and one curve of his mouth; leaving the rest in shadow.  
   
"Spike?"  
   
He curled his fingers in hers. "I'm sorry about this afternoon, Buffy, I was a complete tosser. I know what you were trying to say."  
   
She smiled sleepily. "You're a bit slow, huh? Gonna kiss me or what?"  
   
"Say it again, Buffy. The simple version."  
   
"I'm in love with you,” she whispered, eyes shining. "C'mere."  
   
The next moment he was drowning in Buffy-smell and Buffy- taste, a taste he had tried very hard to remember but hadn’t been able to. It was so sweet and languid he almost thought he was still sleeping. They slowly licked and sucked and tasted each other's mouths and tongues and he felt they could go on forever like that. Buffy came up for air and tried to draw him under the covers.  
   
"Let's go sit on the porch," Spike said. "Don’t wanna wake your little friend."  
   
"Too cold," Buffy mock-shivered. ”Come in here."  
   
I don’t think we should…"  
   
"No, of course not, we're not alone. Just to cuddle."  
   
Spike let himself be persuaded and slid in Buffy's warm fragrant bed, next to her thinly clad body. It was like an exquisite cocoon of happiness. God. Buffy's bed, Buffy's arms, priceless gifts so easily and so simply given away, as if he deserved them, which he did not of course. He touched his knuckles to her smooth cheeks, glowing with sleep, and applied himself to more kissing. She uttered soft sighs and settled herself as close as she could to the smooth hard planes of his body, snaking her arms around his torso. They still fitted.  
   
She warmed him up, and slid her hands softly and gently over his skin, taking stock of possible changes and scars, finally settling one hand on his nape, where the soft curls changed into fuzz, and one on the small of his back, just feeling the swell of his buttock on the side of her hand.  
   
“You’re all smooth again,” she said softly. “No scars.”  
   
“You too.”  She felt the movement of his facial muscles in a smile against her skin.  
   
“Spike?” she said on a sigh. “D’you think we could sleep like this?”  
   
“Huh-huh.” He nuzzled her shell-like ear, surrounded by the scent of her hair. It smelt like sun and shampoo, and a little bit of this evening’s dinner. He sucked on her earlobe, the little knobs of scar tissues where her piercings were tantalizing his tongue.  
   
“But you have to take off your jeans; the buttons are digging into me.”  
   
He obeyed and shoved them on the floor with his foot.  
   
“Now I’m at a disadvantage…,” he whispered against her neck, where she was ticklish. She squirmed and without a word wormed herself out of her camisole and pajama bottoms.  
   
They shifted back to their former comfortable positions, the slide of skin upon skin bringing sweet well-remembered sensations. Spike started to suck Buffy’s lips again, gently, then let his tongue travel slowly inwards, meeting hers, drinking and tasting her over and over, simmering in the oven-like heat her body was generating, so much heat… Sweat started to dew on her upper lip, her breath grew shallower and more rapid, her heart beating against his chest.  
   
“Spike…I want…” she breathed, shimmying her hips against his. Spike bit his lips not to make a sound.  
   
“Not now, not here…We can wait, we have time…”  
   
He saw tears glint in her eyes. She hid her face in his neck and whispered fiercely, “No, we don’t Spike, we don’t know that. We could die tomorrow, any one of us. We don’t have time to take this slowly!”  
   
“I don’t want you to regret this…And what about the girl?”  
   
“Come on—we’ll be very quiet…” She put her hand around his balls and he couldn’t say no any more. Very quietly, they turned and shifted so that Buffy’s back was to Spike, and Buffy lifted her leg slightly, stuffing Mr. Gordo under one knee and Spike slid easily in her, so hot, so slippery, the very slowness and silence making it into a new adventure for them both, who had never been quiet or slow.  
   
“I got your back, Slayer,” he murmured.  
   
“I know,” she answered.  
   
Buffy slid her left hand backwards, to cup Spike’s ass, and the other gripped the headboard for leverage. Spike moved his hips only slightly, and together they rocked languorously, everything so easy and comfortable and hot. His hand, warm now, on her nipple, and on her clit, making her come inexorably, so swiftly she almost gasped in surprise. Buffy bit her pillow to keep silent. They rocked on, and she felt Spike grip her hard and buck against her, and that made her come again. She heard him make an unh-sound in her hair, and nearly giggled. She came down from her orgasm rapidly, drifting into sleep without noticing it, his arms securely around her, still inside her. He automatically copied the rhythms of her breathing, and followed her into sleep as naturally.  
   
When Buffy woke up that morning it was to silence and sticky sheets. Rona’s sleeping bag was empty. She turned around to find Spike awake and looking quietly at her.  
   
“Oops,” she said. “The news must have spread already, I guess.”  
   
“Kind of hard to hide anyway with a house full of bloody people,” he said with a shrug and a smile. “Do we kiss first?”  
   
“Good plan.”  
   
“Mmm. Ready to face the music?” Buffy murmured against his lips.  
   
“If we’re gonna get long faces and rants, we might as well make the most of it…”  
   
“Love you.”  
   
“Love you, too.”  
   
THE END


End file.
